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by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: The Zine Collection [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fear, Homecoming, Loss, M/M, Missing in Action, Missions Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-22 20:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Hanzo goes missing after a mission goes south, vanishing without a trace beyond the bloody, broken bow he left in his wake.





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**Author's Note:**

> Written for To Ashes: A McHanzo Zine. With wonderful art from Ecchima: http://ecchima.tumblr.com/post/169300201145/heres-another-one-of-the-pieces-i-drew-for

     It was always cold up here these days Jesse thought as he settled on the ledge that ran around the top of the Communication tower, tugging his serape closer although it did little to ease the chill that had nothing to do with the weak winter sun. Maybe it had always been cold he mused, but before there had always been a smaller body pressed against his side, deceptively slender fingers brushing his as they shared a cup of Sake or a flask of whisky, warm lips that always met him halfway. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the empty space beside him. Instead, wrapping his arms around himself and stared out across the base, hoping as always that if he watched for long enough that he would see Hanzo scrambling over the wall like he had when he had first arrived at the Watchpoint, or striding through the main gates. Hell, he would even accept the archer being dragged home bloodied and injured just as long as he was alive. As long as he came home.

 _Three weeks._ It felt like a lifetime since he had lost sight of Hanzo during their last mission, realising too late that his partner was no longer answering on the comms and that the deadly rain that had been keeping the Talon forces from circling around behind them had disappeared. A lifetime since he had made it up to the roof where he had last seen Hanzo, a brief glance, a shared look, confirming that they were both okay. A promise to watch each other’s back, to go home together. A promise that had been broken by the sight of a broken bow lying next to two bodies, its grip slippery with blood when he had retrieved it with shaking hands, of Hanzo there was no sign.

    The mission had been a failure, in the end, they’d blown the payload to prevent Talon getting their hands on the decommissioned Bastion units that had been intended for the local defence force, and they had been forced to retreat, injured and minus a teammate. McCree had been furious, lashing out in a way that he hadn’t since his Deadlock days and in the end, it had taken 76 and Reinhardt together to stop him from rushing back to search for Hanzo. Now, he wished he had fought harder, that he had never retreated because when they had gone to search for Hanzo, they had found nothing. All they had was a broken bow and the fact that no body had been found.

    McCree had spent two weeks searching, chasing down the slightest lead, but it was like hunting for a ghost. In that time, he had barely slept, barely spoken, ignoring the orders to return to the Watchpoint. The only calls he would accept were from Genji who was still searching as well, and Winston and Athena who were combing through every inch of surveillance they could get their hands on, desperate for anything that would tell him where Hanzo was. He hunted Talon, terrified that they had taken his partner, haunted by the confrontation with Reaper months before when he had learned just what had become of the man he had once thought could never fall. Talon had destroyed Amelie Lacroix. It had corrupted Gabriel Reyes…what would it do to Hanzo if the archer had fallen into their clutches?

   In the end, he’d had no choice but to return to the base. Not home, because it wasn’t home, not without Hanzo waiting to greet him with the small almost smile that never failed to warm him. Genji had returned too, a shadow of himself, eyes that were too similar to Hanzo’s dark with pain when he admitted that he had found nothing and felt nothing, even his dragon had been silent, unable to sense its brothers.

_I think he’s gone._

    Genji had finally whispered the words that everyone had been avoiding this morning, and McCree had nearly crumbled there and then. Instead, he had lashed out, not caring that Genji was grieving too, that he had finally buckled under the same lack of news that had driven McCree into a drunken stupor for the last three nights. He couldn’t remember what he had said, but he could remember punching the younger man and being hauled off by Reinhardt, could remember comforting hands on his shoulders and soothing words, the comfort leaving a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn’t need comfort. He didn’t need pity, because Hanzo wasn’t gone. In the end, he had fled, ignoring their shouts, heading for the one place he might find some peace.

    But there was no peace he realised, gaze slipping to the empty spot beside him despite himself. This had been where he had first broken through the walls that Hanzo had thrown up between himself and the world, he couldn’t even remember what he had said now, but he could remember how Hanzo had blinked, caught off guard for once. He could remember how dark eyes had softened, stern lips quirking into the almost smile that would eventually be reserved for him alone, and how they had hesitantly come together, that first kiss clumsy and uncertain and full of promise. This narrow ledge overlooking the base that had become their home had seen them through sleepless nights when the past wouldn’t leave them alone, late nights sharing stories and drinks, early mornings after a night spent in the training range, greeting the sun with linked hands and chaste kisses.

“Hanzo,” he reached out fingers closing on empty air, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the stinging sensation. _Three weeks. I think he’s gone._ “You’re not gone…you can’t be gone.” He snorted a horrible broken sound that made him flinch. A lifetime of being a realist, knowing that he could die at a moment’s notice, that his life was only worth as much as he made of it and he was ready to throw it all away if it meant that he could avoid the weight of Genji’s words just a little longer. _Foolishness,_ he flinched again, Hanzo’s voice clear as though the archer was beside him, the same exasperated word that he had uttered after their first kiss when McCree had murmured that he might just love him, and this time his snort came out as a sob. One sob becoming two and then three until he was shuddering under the force of the storm he had been holding back for days, his entire body shuddering as he curled in on himself, knowing that it was foolishness. Knowing deep down that Genji was probably right, but determined to deny it for as long as possible.

    He had no idea how long he sat like that, sobbing until it felt like he could barely breathe, a physical ache joining the dull pain that had been constantly present in his chest since he had first realised Hanzo was gone. Everything hurt, his fingers trembling as he swiped fruitlessly at the dampness on his cheeks. _Foolishness…_ He could feel himself dissolving again, the noise he made this time closer to a wail than a sob before there was a soft thwack beside him and he tensed, thinking that one of the others had finally tracked him down. However, when he finally managed to lift his head, he found himself unable to breathe for a different reason as he stared at the arrow embedded in the ledge in front of him, still quivering from the impact.

   It took him a long time to convince himself to move, certain that he was seeing things before his fingers tentatively brushed against the arrow, shuddering at the feel of coarse feathers beneath his touch. He was even slower as he turned, almost afraid to look down, the ache in his chest intensifying because it couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be Hanzo. He couldn’t let himself hope.

   It took him a moment to really look, to let himself focus and another moment to register the figure perched on the wall above the main entrance, perfectly balanced, bow still in hand. _It can’t be him._ Yet already his eyes were flicking over the distant figure, sharp gaze easily able to make out the familiar flutter of gold amongst dark hair, and the intricate pattern covering his arm although from here he couldn’t see the details that he had spent long nights tracing with tender fingers. However, it was only when the archer moved, nimbly hopping from that height as though it was nothing, just as he had done two years ago when he had arrived at the Watchpoint that McCree dared to let himself breathe again, a gasping sound that broke the spell that had settled over him. He was unable to stop the hope that bubbled up in its wake or the whisper that slipped out as he staggered to his feet.

“Hanzo.”

 


End file.
